Too Far Apart?
by Alexis Horatio Snape
Summary: UPDATE! Ch. 2 is up and I'm working on 3! / Quick Summary: Set in Harry's 7th year at Hogwarts; final weeks at school. Snarry.
1. Chapter 1

"...And to end the year, all the seventh years will have a dance as a way to say their good-byes and also to, once again, try to have some sort of harmony within the houses", finished Headmistress McGonagall. And to accompany her ending, there were many groans and sighs among the houses. As pre-usual, the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws would get together, as the Slytherins preferred to stay alone. Even after the war, there were still tensions among the houses. But that, everyone assumed, was just out of nature. If all the houses got along, sure it would be nice, but it wouldn't be the same.

"There's still some time left, so use the remaining to mingle about and such", added the Headmistress.

And with that being said, everyone got up and walked to their friends, either complaining over the dance, or having a fit over what they would wear. It was the final dance, and everyone, girls and boys, wanted to look their best.

A dark-haired boy raised his head and leaned it back, resting on the benches that he sat on. He didn't bother getting up. Just a second ago, he was about to get up and talk to his friends, but he noticed that they were already discussing how they would look in front of everyone. Since the beginning of their seventh year, Ron and Hermione decided to just get together, ending their constant bickering derived from angst and jealousy. Though he didn't want to think about it, the dark-haired boy, Harry, knew that he was alone. Those two were always together and always had something to talk about, blocking everyone else from their mind to avoid getting side-tracked. They were so involved with each other that they even ignored Harry from time to time. Unintentionally, of course. They would change their actions, were Harry to say something. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to interfere. He was busy enough himself as it was, having people still thanking him and wanting to interview him, all of which he either merely denied or just walked off.

As he said in his fourth year, and still kept to, he didn't care fame and glory. It wasn't important to him.

Sure, he had Ginny Weasley. But after Christmas break, he just decided to end it. He loved Ginny, and she him. But even she had to agree with him that it just didn't work. Harry believed her, seeing as how she was already flirting around with some of the guys from the other houses. Not that it was a bad thing. It didn't even bother him anymore. He just wanted her to be happy. And if flirting around was her way to try and find the right guy... Well... Alright then. Harry wanted to focus on himself.

_'She's sure gotten prettier...'_ he thought, now having his head raised, his gaze somewhat focused onto Ginny.

He started to think about Cho Chang...

He shook his head.

It'd never work.

She cared about Cedric too much. Even until today.

He thought back to the fighting. He remembered what Cho yelled out when she was fighting a Death Eater.

_"And that's for Cedric!"_

He sighed.

There was no point in dwelling on the past... He closed his eyes...

_"..Look at me..."_

His eyes quickly bolted open. It wasn't strange to think about him. It wasn't abnormal, or anything. But just out of nowhere like that, what was Snape doing swirling through his thoughts? Harry actually missed him, he remembered, thinking back to the first week back at school. No one was harassing his house, messing with his friends, personally hating on Harry himself. It almost felt too boring to go through class. Slughorn was still the Potions professor, and they had a new DADA professor. But just not having Snape teach either subject, or even be there in general, was just far too annoying. Hah, too annoying for someone annoying to not be around. Well isn't that strange.

_'Oh well... Things happen for a reason--'_

"Time for lunch, everyone", announced McGonagall.

"Awesome. I'm starving."

*~*~*~*~*

Living in simple and quiet solitude.

He enjoyed it.

Actually, he loved it.

Peace and quiet was something he always looked forward to.

Sitting in his living space, a fire lit up in the fireplace, and sipping firewhiskey.

Everything seemed to be in place.

He wasn't complaining.

He hated people anyway.

He hated having any sort of contact, which obviously showed. No matter how much he cared for the person.

More accurately, he always hid his emotions.

Setting his glass down on the table in front of him, the man let out a dragging sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, having his hands support his head up. Oily, raven locks curtained at the front of his face, swaying a bit as the man let out one more sigh.

He was living the life that he wished for.

So why did he feel so shitty?

*~*~*~*~*

Sitting by himself, he ignored everyone else, and engorged himself in food. He overslept and missed breakfast, having to sprint down to his first class of the day. Wonderful way to start out the morning, no?

Surprisingly, Ron and Hermione approached him. And rather quietly as well, since Harry spit his food out in shock, not realizing they were there. Letting out a couple laughs, Harry cleaned himself up and beamed up at the two. Hermione was the first to speak.

"Harry. Ron and I realized it's been a while since we've talked... All of us, like this."

Harry nodded his head in agreement; Ron was smothering his face in food. Hermione continued.

"It's gotten somewhat uncomfortable for both of us, and especially for you--"

"'Mione, it's okay, really, I don't--"

"--mind, I know. But of course, you're lyi--"

"--I am not lying! I'm telling the tru--"

"--No, you're not! You miss us, don't you--"

"--Of course I do--!"

"--Then shut up, and let me finish!"

Ron and Harry both looked at her in shock, their eyes wide, looking up at her. She was standing, hands firmly set onto the dining table. Her face was tinted a slight pink out of frustration. And after a short pause, she resumed.

"...We know how you've been feeling. We've been friends for years, so we can tell if something's bothering you, Harry. We're not stupi--"

"--I know you're not stu--"

"--Can you let me finish!?"

Harry nodded, and stayed quiet.

"Anyway...! ..Look, Harry. We feel like our friendship is faltering. And that makes us all uncomfortable. So Ron and I decided to set aside our relationship until the end of the year."

"What!? Why!?"

"For you--"

"--No! I don't want to ruin your rela--"

"--You aren't ruining it, Harry!" Ron interrupted. "We just want to focus on us. All of us. Us three, together. It's not just for you."

"..." Harry lowered his head and shook it side to side slowly. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Harry, who raised his head and smiled sadly.

"Thank you."

The other two merely smiled back.

*~*~*~*~*

"I swear... That boy will be the end of me... Again... --" He chuckled. Chuckled, for Merlin's sake! Who knew he, of all people, could be funny?? Or at that, even laugh!?

Ah.

But Severus Snape had always been a mystery.


	2. Chapter 2

"No!"

He had woken up in a cold sweat again. He didn't understand why. Even with the Dark Lord gone, he was still haunting his dreams. Every time he had these dreams, these dreams of where Voldemort killed him, he always had a thought that there could be some sort of trace that the Dark Lord was still alive. But of course, that was a thought that only lasted half a second. He was gone completely and his followers (who were still alive) were locked in Azkaban. He had nothing to worry about.

But why did he keep having the same dream over and over again?

This was one of the few things bugging him. And yet, even these reoccurring dreams were the least of his worries. He still felt guilty for Hermione and Ron. He still felt like he ruined their relationship. Technically, his existence was the reason they set their relationship aside in the first place. Just because of him.

So what if he disappeared?

What if he just up and left?

Well, he couldn't do that. He had school.

…

He needed to talk to McGonagall.

-x;

"No!"

He had woken up in a cold sweat again. He didn't understand why. Even with the Dark Lord gone, he was still haunting his dreams. Every time he had these dreams, these dreams of where Voldemort killed him, he always had a thought that there could be some sort of trace that the Dark Lord was still alive. But of course, that was a thought that only lasted half a second. He was gone completely and his followers (who were still alive) were locked in Azkaban. He had nothing to worry about.

Or so he thought.

He sat up in his bed, looking over at where the Dark Mark used to be. He traced it lightly with a finger, sighing as he did so. It only looked like a bruise now, but the fact that he could still see it bothered him.

He wasn't one to express any sort of emotion to anyone. But he needed to talk to someone. Just this once. This dream, this one, reoccurring over and over again. Maybe if he talked about it, it would just go away. He couldn't drink his problems away forever.

He needed to talk to McGonagall.

-x;

Harry looked up at the enormous golden statue before him; the entrance to the Headmistress' office. He took his sweet time. When he got out of bed, Ron was still awake. Which was surprising, especially at this time of night. They talked about Qudditch for a bit, but not about his own problem. He didn't want to bug Ron about it, knowing that he would tell Hermione. He didn't need them to worry about him more.

Now.

What was the password again?

"Dumbledore", he announced. And with that, the giant frame began to turn upward, revealing the staircase. He got on the top step quickly and waited until he got to the top. Upon reaching the office, he knocked on the door softly.

"Come in".

He pushed open the door and walked in, glancing over at McGonagall. She looked at him, half surprised, half unimpressed.

"Well good evening, Mister Potter. What brings you here?"

He walked over to the desk, giving the old woman a faint smile, which she returned. He sat in the chair in front of her, across the desk, lowering his head. He didn't know what to say. Sometimes even just a presence of someone he cared for was enough.

"Mister Potter?"

The boy shook his head, raising it, looking at the Headmistress.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I came here looking for someone to talk to, and yet…" His words slowly faded to mumbling. He didn't know what to say. Not like he planned to go and see her.

"Care to tell me what's bothering you at least?"

The boy nodded, and she nodded in return.

"I keep having the same dream over and over again. Where Voldemort kills me and wins."

She nodded once more. "Go on, boy."

"I don't understand why I keep having it. And it's not like I've been thinking about him or this dream. It just keeps happening and it's just…It's annoying. I don't know what to do."

McGonagall looked at the boy, he lips curving into a small smile. She began thinking about her meeting previously, right before the boy came to her.

_'I don't know what to do.'_

She chuckled softly and Harry looked at her in disbelief. Why? What made this funny? He sure as hell didn't think this was funny.

"Profe—"

"I wasn't laughing at you, Mister Potter. Just a little déjà vu hit me."

He raised a brow. Was someone else having this conflict? And if so, who in the world would?

"Professor, who—"

"I'd rather tell you later, my boy. For now, just go back to bed and rest. Come back tomorrow ev—Or well, this evening. I have someone you can talk to."

"But Pro—"

"To bed, Mister Potter."

He wasn't satisfied with her order, but did so anyway. At reaching the door, he muttered a light 'good night' and walked out of the office, heading back to bed as he was told.

-x;

"I keep having the same dream over and over again. Where Voldemort kills me and wins."

She nodded once more. "Well, obviously you didn't die. So why is this bothering you?"

The raven-haired male kept his head low. It was true. It shouldn't bother him. But with the years he's spent with that monster, it's no surprise that he was still being haunted. And haunted was such an appropriate word. McGonagall could tell what he was thinking by just looking at him. He was upset. He didn't want to feel this way. She felt pity. Everyone thought he was dead and that had put him at ease, or so he thought. She knew he wanted to be left alone, even from his own mind. But it seemed that it couldn't happen.

"Do you plan on doing anything about this? What about making a dreamless sleep potion? I'm pretty sure you could—"

"It's not that easy. I can't leave my home. Someone will recognize me and release to the world that I'm alive."

"So you can't find ingredients."

He shook his head. She sighed.

"Well, that is frustra—"

"Yes, very", he snapped. She wasn't surprised. But there was nothing she could do for him. She wanted to help, despite all that's happened. But she knew that this was not her kind of problem.

She raised her head up to look at him, only to see that he was gone. She exhaled deeply, a sigh.

-x;

Minerva could only chuckle. How alike those two were. She stood up and walked over to the portrait of Hogwarts own Dumbledore. He was awake. She wasn't surprised. The portrait Dumbledore stood up from his seat and looked down at the woman with a smile.

"Tough job, isn't it?" he asked her with the same soft tone he's always had.

She shook her head, lowering it. It was only tough when she had to deal with those who were like Potter, who were like Snape. They looked so simple, but they were, indeed, some of the most complex characters in her time.

"Those two, I swear, Albus."

He chuckled lightly. "I understand. Those two…they're complicated. But in reality, Minerva…"

She looked up at him when he paused, a sort of confused expression spread onto her face. The former Headmaster could only find it amusing and continued.

"They just need someone in their lives. Think about it. Severus lost Lily. Harry lost Ginny. Severus doesn't have any friends, as he likes to think. Harry has his but is distant."

"Those are their own choices, Albus. What are you trying to say? That I should bring those two together?" The tone of her question revealed that she was a bit appalled. They couldn't stand each other. There's no way they could be friends. The thought of it was just bizarre.

"I'll leave this to you. This is your job." He sat back in his chair and finally fell asleep. He was tired.

McGonagall turned around and returned to her desk. She took a seat and relaxed in the massive chair, a small smile creeping across her lips. How amusing the rest of this year would be.


End file.
